


The Wooster Rap

by baroque_mongoose



Category: Girl Genius
Genre: Gen, Poetry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-09
Updated: 2014-11-09
Packaged: 2018-02-24 17:40:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2590415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baroque_mongoose/pseuds/baroque_mongoose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A rap poem about my favourite Girl Genius character.  That is all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Wooster Rap

**Author's Note:**

> This was quite heavily inspired by Mr B the Gentleman Rhymer, who does rap in a terribly posh British sort of way. I am not sure there's anyone quite like him. If you're already familiar with him, I would like you to imagine him performing this piece. If you're not, you need to imagine someone in a straw boater and a striped blazer with a very large moustache, and, of course, the requisite accent. Oh, and a banjo. Yes. The banjo is important.

He's Mr Wooster,  
Yes, that's his name,  
He's quaking in his boots but he plays the game;  
The world's gone nuts, no ifs or buts,  
But he's hanging in there through plain old guts.  
Armies march, his eyebrows arch,  
There's a very faint whiff of laundry starch,  
For whatever else has gone quite mad,  
There's no excuse to dress like a cad...  
That would be bad!  
So he's in the mix with his box of tricks,  
If you bowl him a plot he will hit it for six,  
And don't harm his friends, for that's not cricket;  
You'll find yourself on a sticky wicket.  
He may brick it, but he won't give an inch;  
He gets more determined if you make him flinch,  
So don't try,  
He won't die,  
DuPree tried to shoot him and he punched her in the eye.  
He's not so loud and he's not so proud,  
He wouldn't stand out in a random crowd,  
He's got a quiet style and a friendly smile  
That people will talk to for quite a while,  
And he'll remember - yes, every word,  
Gather everything he's heard, though it sounds absurd,  
Pull it together till it all makes sense,  
Because information is the best defence;  
He's got it all on total recall,  
Facts and figures both large and small,  
It's all there,  
Laid out fair and square  
Under that mop of rumpled hair.  
Oh, he's rare!  
So _chapeau_ , young man, for you're going through hell,  
But nobody else could cope so well;  
I know you're worried  
And frightened too,  
But that doesn't stop a man like you -  
You'll get through.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I know it was DuPree's nose that got punched, not her eye. Poetic licence, OK? :-)


End file.
